Love Heals

by Dinah McLeod

  I'd just zipped up my dress when I heard a knock at my door. I walked over and looked through the peephole before taking the chain off and opening the door.

  Brandon was standing outside with my morning cup of coffee. "Good morning, beautiful."

  "I told you that you didn't have to drive all the way over here!" I scolded as I took it from him.

  "A deal's a deal. I told you I'd make sure you had your coffee every morning, and that stands whether you're at my place or not."

  "If I'm in Belgium are you going to hop a plane?" I teased as I opened the door wider to allow him inside.

  "Where there's a will, there's a way. I still don't see why you couldn't have stayed with me last night, though. I missed you."

  "I missed you too," I assured him as I put the chain back on the door. "But I told you, all my clothes are here."

  "Isn't it time we do something about that?"

  "Like what?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

  "I've told you at least half a dozen times you can move in with me. I have more than enough room and…" He looked around my dinky, hole-in-the-wall apartment and shrugged.

  I knew what he was thinking: there was nothing to keep me here. But what he didn't understand was that I liked having my own place, such as it was. Plus, I felt that it kept me grounded and reminded me of how far I'd come. Even if recent events had pulled me back down a few rungs, I was still a long way from the girl who'd grown up in the projects. "What do you think of the dress?"

  He must have known I was trying to change the subject, but he accepted with the same grace that he used to handle everything. "It's nice. It's not exactly conservative, is it?"

  I didn't answer, instead scrutinizing my reflection in my full-length mirror. No, it definitely wasn't that. The skirt stopped four inches above the knee, revealing my long, tanned legs. The V-neck plunged, giving just the slightest hint of cleavage. I was wearing a push-up water bra, because my small boobs needed all the help they could get. It wasn't my normal outfit for the office, a fact Brandon knew all too well, but once again, he let it slide. He seemed to be cutting me a lot of slack lately and I couldn't help but wonder how long that was going to last.

  It was the kind of dress you didn't wear unless you were wearing it for someone—and it wasn't my boyfriend. Yes, perhaps it was shallow of me to being using my feminine wiles to gain the upper hand—the feminist in me was appalled—but I didn't see what choice I had left. I knew it was unlikely that it would work, but I had to try. I'd always thought Mark had a thing for me—now we'd see if it'd been because of my power, or something a little more primal.

  "Well, you look great."

  "Thanks." I smiled tightly, still avoiding his eyes. What would he say if he knew what I had planned? Perhaps more important, what would he do? I didn't think a mere spanking would cover this one. All the more reason not to let him find out, my devil whispered. We were firmly in agreement on that one.

  "Will you be coming home after work?"

  I laughed to myself. Brandon had started to call his place "home"—I wondered if it was a subliminal message. "I'm not sure yet."

  He was standing behind me and I could see his frown reflected in the mirror. He stepped toward me and spanned my waist with his hands. "Why not? I thought we'd order Chinese. Your favorite," he added as though I needed to be reminded.

  "That's sweet, honey, just…I might need some alone time after work today. I don't imagine it'll be…pleasant."

  "All the more reason to come see me when you're done. I know a few tricks that work wonders at relieving tension." His hand looped around and brushed across my pussy, making me shiver. He was tempting as hell.

  "I'll text you after, okay?"

  It wasn't the answer he wanted, I knew that, but he nodded. He wasn't the type to force the issue, at least not about something like this. "I hope you have a good day."

  I turned toward him and finally met his eyes. "You and me both. Brandon, I…I love you. You know that, right?"

  He pulled back and looked at me appraisingly. "Yes. Are you okay? Is there something we should—"

  "No. No, I'm fine, just…wanted to make sure." I leaned forward and kissed him before he could probe further. He resisted for all of a millisecond before he kissed me back. By the time we stopped, we were both out of breath and the flicker of doubt was forgotten—I hoped.

  "Do you want me to give you a lift?"

  "No, thanks. I'll be fine."

  "It's on the way."

  "Brandon, seriously, thank you, but I'll be fine."

  He smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, I guess I was just hoping to get a few more minutes with you."

  There it was, the niggling doubt in the back of my mind clamoring to be heard. I pushed it away—I had to do what I had to do. Brandon would never know, and if he did, well, he'd understand, right? When he smiled at me, I melted. When I looked at his broad shoulders, or his muscular, toned abs, I melted. What could I say? The man made me melt.

  "Drive safe."

  I turned around and made a show of finding my purse so that I could roll my eyes without him seeing. Would we ever go even one day without him talking in that warning voice? Everyone sped, why was I always the one who got caught, dammit?

  "Yes Sir?" he prompted in a voice that warned that he knew I was stalling.

  "Yes, Sir," I replied dutifully. "I really better get going."

  "I know. I hope to see you later, but if not, this weekend?"

  "Sure. I love you."

  "Love you too, sweetheart."

  We walked out to the parking lot together and I gave Brandon another quick kiss before getting into my Porsche. I made sure to drive very carefully and stay under the speed limit until I saw his car turn down the boulevard. Then I relaxed and watched the speedometer needle race.

  I still wasn't completely clear on what it was I planned on doing, and that made me nervous. I knew the end result I wanted, but what I didn't know was exactly how I was going to go about achieving it. I'll just wing it, I decided as I turned into the parking lot. Though I normally over-prepared, I'd managed a hail Mary pass with my business a time or two. Maybe I'd get lucky and it'd work this time, too.

  It wasn't hard to find Mark. He was loitering in my office, just like I knew he would be, peeking into my desk drawers. I rapped sharply on the door and gave him a friendly smile when he looked up.

  "Oh, ah, good morning, Ms. Donahue. I didn't expect you in today."

  "Why?" I asked, managing to hide the loathing I felt being this close to him. "Don't I still have a job here?"

  "Of course." He smiled, confidant in having brought me down so low. "I just thought you might want to take a little vacation first. You know, get some sun, relax. You've earned it."

  I widened my smile—catching sight of the slight flush on his neck gave me the confidence I needed. What he really meant was that he wanted me out of the way as long as possible to solidify his rather tenuous hold on my company, but that wasn't going to happen unless it was over my dead body. "That's very thoughtful of you, but I wanted to get in and figure out my new job assignment."

  There was a studious frown on his—I had to admit—handsome face. "You should report to the head of marketing for that. Eric Swann, isn't it?"

  I know who my head of marketing is, douche tool, I thought, keeping my smile in place. "Sure. And if you need any help in here…" I gestured to the room. "I'd be happy to provide any assistance I can."

  He hesitated, for an instant. I saw the doubt in his light green eyes, but pride got the better of him in the end and he smiled. "I'm sure marketing can spare you for a little while."

  "Of course. They weren't even planning on having me this morning," I reminded him.

  "Right. Well, in that case, if you don't mind showing me the ropes…"

  There it was, the appreciative look in his eyes as he raked them over my body. It made me shudder even as my heart quickened at the same time. It couldn't be this easy—no way. And
yet, it looked like his lust and his pride might be his downfall. At least, it would be if I had anything to say about it. "Who did you hire as your assistant?"

  "Ah, actually—" At least he had the grace to look abashed, which in itself was an answer. "I let Mr. McQueen retain the position."

  Huh. I'd actually forgotten Jack had a last name. "That was sweet of you," I practically simpered. And stupid, at the same time. It might be another opening for me, if I played my cards right.

  "Do you mind closing the door?"

  He really was too easy. "Of course." I walked to the door and closed it softly, pushing down the irritation of having him ordering me around. Let him have his fun. Once he felt comfortable in his position, he'd slip. Everyone who got to the top fell eventually—a fact that I should have been conscious of. The worst part of this was that in a way, I'd let it happen. Once the merger with SunFilm fell through, I'd become moody and unmotivated. I'd started showing up to the office late, if I showed up at all. I'd excused it by telling myself it was understandable—I'd spent the better part of six months on those plans, my hand had touched every bit of the plans, so when it fell through there was no doubt as to who was to blame. Then I'd stayed away to lick my wounds in private, giving Mark the opportunity that allowed him to feel comfortable enough to tell me what to do. But I couldn't focus on what I'd done wrong—the important thing here was to punish him for his part in this.

  "Thank you. And Karen, I must say, you look lovely today."

  You must, must you? I quickly covered my sneer with a smile as genuine as I could manage. "Thank you, Mr. Patterson." Let him think he had the upper hand. He always did anyway, didn't he?

  "If you were amenable, maybe we could find you something more suited to your…considerable talents." He was walking toward me and I pressed myself against the door.

  "Thank you." I fluttered my lashes then looked down demurely. This had been much easier than I'd dared hope. Now, all that I had to do was keep his trust and find a way to hang him with it.

  He reached for my hand and I let him take it. What choice did I have? He pulled me to him and I smothered a yelp of protest. The feel of his touch made my flesh squirm, but I gritted my teeth and endured it. "Did you wear that dress for me?" he murmured.

  "I…" Being this close to his intoxicating cologne was throwing me into a heady type of confusion. I'd always thought he was cute—still an asshole, but cute. His close cropped blond hair looked silky, he had broad shoulders and light green eyes and big, pouty lips that would make any girl jealous. This close to him, feeling his nearness almost made me forget what I was here for. "Yes."

  His smile was a slow, triumphant one revealing his perfectly straight, white teeth. "I thought so." He wrapped his hands around my waist and lowered his head.

  Against my better judgment—and my conscience screaming at me to put a stop to this—I raised my head and let him brush his lips over mine. I thought he would deepen the kiss and was shocked when he let go of me suddenly. I was blinking in confusion as he chuckled. "What?"

  "Really, Karen?" he stroked his chin, still grinning. "Did you think I would fall for that? The whole sweet, innocent act doesn't suit you. Particularly when you're dressed like a whore."

  I felt my cheeks flush with hot, searing shame. "Excuse me?"

  "You heard me," he replied with the easy confidence of a man who knew he'd won. "I was wondering what I was going to do to keep you in line and you just walked in and handed it to me." He didn't even bother to try to hide his glee.

  "What are you talking about?" Damn, I cringed when my voice shook.

  "I'm talking about you, walking in here and trying to seduce me. To be named VP, I presume."

  "No, that's not—"

  "What you were hoping for?" he interrupted smoothly. "I imagine not." He chuckled again, looking so damn pleased with himself that it was all I could do to stop myself from lunging across the room and ripping off that smug face of his piece by bigheaded piece. "Please, give me some credit. If you honestly thought I'd fall for that little act, then you really are slipping as much as I told the board you were."

  "You poisonous little worm—"

  "Careful, careful," he warned, the smug grin still in place as he held up his hands. "You wouldn't want me to add threats to the charges of sexual harassment."

  "Sexual harassment?" I parroted, my head spinning. What had just happened? How had I not seen this coming?

  "Of course. Everyone who saw you come in this morning will verify my account that you were dressing unusually, and of course, you yourself told me you did it with certain intentions in mind."

  I couldn't believe it. My mouth was dry, my palms shaking. I balled them into fists, but the shaking persisted. "But that's not what happened," I protested weakly.

  "Isn't it? Well, I might have gotten one or two things wrong, but who is everyone going to believe? The CEO of a billion dollar company—"

  "My company," I reminded him, glowering.

  "Or a scorned former employee?"

  "What?" I gasped. No, he couldn't mean…

  "You are to turn in your resignation by end of business today unless you want me to call HR with these complaints. I'll also be sure to leak the information to the press and by tomorrow morning, your picture will be on every front page from here to Canada. Don't you have a boyfriend? I imagine he'll find the news disturbing, to say the least."

  I felt dizzy. This wasn't happening. It wasn't possible. I was the youngest female CEO in history. This didn't happen to people like me. And now he was threatening the only thing I had left…

  "It's not personal, it's business," he added, to twist the knife in deeper. He was taunting me with the very words I'd used dozens of times to irate employees, even to members of the board.

  I'd been too concerned with running a business to try to make friends and this was where it had landed me: virtually unemployed, about to become actually unemployed. "Mark, you can't do this," I insisted with firmness I didn't feel.

  "I didn't, Karen—you did. There's nothing you can say to change my mind, it's made up. Not even if you got down on your knees and begged—though I assure you I'd love to see it."

  I never ran from a fight. My whole life, I'd stood firm and landed as many punches as I took. First, as a scrappy kid on the wrong side of the tracks, then in every business deal I'd ever landed. It was what made me successful and I'd be damned if I gave up on this one. But I needed to regroup; there was nothing I could do now but cause further harm.

  Just then, I heard the knob turn and I turned to see my former assistant, Jack walk in carrying an armload of file folders. If he was surprised to see me, he didn't show it. He pushed his glasses up on his nose and gave me a smile. "Good morning, Ms. Donahue."

  "You don't have to talk to her, Jack. She was just leaving—and she won't be back."

  I met his triumphant, gleaming eyes without flinching. You've won, for now, I told him silently. He inclined his head to me with a smirk on his lips, almost as if I'd spoken aloud. "Goodbye, Jack," I said softly as I brushed past him.

  "It was a pleasure to see you, Ms. Donahue," he replied in a voice that made me turn to face him.

  I met his eyes for an instant and saw nothing but sincerity there. I gave him a brief, sad smile before I walked out the door.

  Chapter 3

  I drove home in a daze, barely blinking back frustrated tears. What was happening to me? I used to be the girl with the Midas touch and now, it looked like everything I touched turned to ash on the spot. How had I not thought this through and seen the possibility that Mark would be one step ahead of me? Easy—because I was the one used to being a step ahead of everyone else. I'd thought myself a master at a game of my own making, but it looked like he'd learned the rules better than I'd originally thought.

  I'd gone from seriously demoted to unemployed in less than twenty-four hours. That had to be some kind of a record. I could fight for my job—I could, but then Brandon would find out what I'd don
e and there was no way I could let that happen.

  "What am I going to do?" I moaned. Why had I felt the need to move so fast? Maybe if I hadn't put all my cards on the table in one morning things would have gone differently. I certainly wouldn't be worrying about my boyfriend discovering that I'd kissed another man.

  The only recourse I had was to stop scheming. If I tried, he'd use the leverage I'd given him. I had no doubt about it—he was just as ruthless as I'd always thought him to be. Funny how once upon a time, that had been part of what had sold me on him. For someone so smart, I sure was an idiot.

  How could I explain that I'd been fired? What possible explanation could I give that would sound plausible, but not be too close to the truth?

  Maybe he doesn't have to know, the devil on my shoulder whispered. He definitely can't know about the other thing.

  Remembering the feel of Mark's lips on mine made me cringe. No, he definitely could not.

  Which meant I had to lie. I hated to do it, but there really was no other option. Unless the truth counted as an option, because it certainly didn't where I was concerned. If he found out, forget a spanking—he'd probably just leave. I couldn't let that happen, so all hands pointed to lie.

  When I got home—I supposed Brandon's subliminal messages must have been getting through after all—I found a big, shiny, gift wrapped box waiting in the foyer. For a moment, I forgot about everything else that had gone on today as I flipped the tag open. It said open me written in Brandon's familiar crooked handwriting. I felt some of the tension seep from me as I began to unwrap the present. When I lifted the lid, I gasped at the sight of the beautiful, delicate lingerie inside. It was off-white silk, one of my favorite colors because of how it offset my brown skin and dark hair. Filled with a new purpose, I marched into the bathroom and shed the dress I'd been wearing, kicking the puddle of fabric to the furthest corner. It might be best if I burned it—I might take great pleasure in it, in fact, if I imagined it was Mark's head I was tossing into the flames. Either way, I knew I'd never wear it again. Just looking at it filled me with shame.